Fox's Glade to me, from the timbers,

i hope she does, songbird hummed. she wished to keep an eye upon that wound of hers, and the limp that calfuray had left with concerned rala both that day and every day that the dark woman crossed her mind. snowwoman could only hope for nightwomans health. she did not was already without an eye. she did not deserve to lose a leg, too.

a smile, then, and a breathy chuckle at the words. trouble may follow you like the sun, but even the sun could never match your warmth, lilting words, spilling from her lips like poetry as looked up at him, dawn hues searching his own ; brown, oaken ... beautiful. he wanted to become a guard, he said. like cole. cole is a good man, she hummed. the words came casually, telling that they were friendly, though rala was uncertain whether they would be considered 'friends'. she had tended to his wounds, as she did with calfuray. perhaps that made them friends. did he recruit you, too?

words left smiling lips. quite the coincidence, if so.